


Get Behind Me, Tantalus

by FolleDeJoie



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: (but like... it's very extremely consensual), Altar Sex, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Anal Sex, Communication, Creampie, Happy Sex, Knotting, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Rimming, adoring mute, and horny mute, besotted characters, but it's not in a furry way please trust me, deity!mute, heavy obsession with gold and pretty things, horned mute, hotdogging implied, it's just the edlritch mute, it's not even a/b/o, ooooh boy where to begin, sacrifice!diarmuid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FolleDeJoie/pseuds/FolleDeJoie
Summary: " He had to thank the village for their misguided attempt at earning back his trust and his favour: a strong ram or a bull would have sufficed for the fruitful harvest and milder winter that they asked, but he would sooner rend the entire cosmos asunder than part with his most beloved treasure that had been willingly gifted. His mind wandered to their first meeting, stepping onto the unpolished stone dais he had been summoned to and finding Diarmuid, lovely and patient and curious despite his fear. "-Fantasy Gods&Myths one-shot inspired by the Discord
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid & The Mute, Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Get Behind Me, Tantalus

**Author's Note:**

> Listen... this is just very smutty PWP but with actual feelings and slight plot because I can't help myself! I wrote this in like 7h so I will be editing it in the future if there's any terrible mistakes.
> 
> All you need to know for context is that Diarmuid's village had some strife and decided to sacrifice virginal and sweet Diarmuid to the deity that was supposed to look after them. This PWP takes place a few months after that.
> 
> Please enjoy!

The swish of silks as they brushed over the tiled ground brought a lazy, contented smile to the Mute’s lips.

For so many years the only sounds to keep him company through his glades and his home were those of the fauna, the flora, and his own. His solitude had never been a burden, and he had barely registered just how silent his existence was until the arrival of his lover.

He had to thank the village for their misguided attempt at earning back his trust and his favour: a strong ram or a bull would have sufficed for the fruitful harvest and milder winter that they asked, but he would sooner rend the entire cosmos asunder than part with his most beloved treasure that had been willingly gifted. His mind wandered to their first meeting, stepping onto the unpolished stone dais he had been summoned to and finding Diarmuid, lovely and patient and curious despite his fear.

The crude gems and weak golden trinkets that had adorned him paled compared to his bright eyes and gorgeous smile, the proud jut of his chin and the supple curves of his slender body beneath his sheer gown. He had known right there that he would have given nectar and stardust and power to the villagers, had they known how deeply and irrevocably besotted he had been upon first sight of his heart.

But they had not known, and he had given them what little they wanted, and Diarmuid had come along with him eagerly and willingly.

He was drawn to the present with a pleased sigh as Diarmuid finally emerged from the halls of his home and stepped into his endless gardens. He was laden with a tray filled almost to the brim with his favourite plates and dishes.

His fingers twitched as he buried the instinct to jump from his golden throne and take the heavy burden from those slender arms, but he knew from experience that his treasure wouldn’t take kindly to his gesture.

He could summon the vines and the clouds to do his bidding, could carve an army of servants from the clays of the earth on a whim, but Diarmuid would always reject what he considered a frivolity. He had learned that the young man had cooked and worked and struggled through his entire life while in the village, but even the promise of the easiest life of ceaseless comforts without lifting a finger had been unfathomable, even insulting.

And so, he stayed seated as his precious heart smiled and nodded in greeting, wandering over to his large golden altar. The mute watched avidly as the muscles in his arms flexed and tense under the weight of the tray, strong and capable despite his lean figure.

He felt his cock begin to stir at the soft grunt that escaped Diarmuid as he set the heavy tray on the ground near the shining altar. His body curved over as he picked up a dish of honey drenched figs, stretching and leaning over to place it on the far side of the table.

The mute’s eyes took their fill.

The golden laurel leaves of the young man’s headband glowed in the hazy, late afternoon sun, illuminating the soft honey curls that framed his features and caressed the nape of his neck. The dip of his shoulder that had David’s teeth aching. He shifted in his seat as he watch those shoulders flex as he moved under the sheer and glistening fabric of his robe. His eyes continued their trail down to his skilled hands and nimble fingers as they positioned the dishes to his liking, and then his eyes were roving down to the tantalising arch of his back.

His tongue ran over his bottom lip as his mind pictured the taste of that skin, the way it would feel beneath his fingers as he laid him out in the same position on his decadently comfy bed, how the graceful curve of his body would push back against his hips as he pushed into that tight, welcoming heat, and the moans and whimpers and gasps that he would make as he fell into his pleasure…

His length throbbed and hardened in his lap as he stared, transfixed on the swell of his cheeks and those long legs that shifted and pressed against the cold metal of the altar.

His gaze snapped up at Diarmuid’s frustrated huff; he saw the contents of a dish, stewed cherries it would seem, had spilled onto his hand as he set it down. The mute sat entranced as he watched him suck his fingers one by one with a satisfied sigh, each disappearing behind luscious lips that darkened with the juices of the fruit. The sight of that clever tongue working it’s way across the webbing between his thumb and index finger broke the last thread of self-control that the deity possessed, and he stood smoothly and silently from his throne.

His feet glided over the warm tiles as he stepped behind his treasure, who jumped in surprised when his large fingers brushed over the delightful curls at the nape of his neck. Another large hand on his hip stilled the younger man as he attempted to turn around.

“My lord…?”he inquired, biting back a gasp as featherlight lips trailed over the delicate skin at the top of his spine.

**‘Hungry’** the disembodied voice echoed low through the air, and Diarmuid chuckled incredulously as he rearranged a bowl of fragrantly spiced chicken and plums.

“It’s all ready for you, even more in the kitchen to follow-” his voice broke off as those blazing hands slid around his torso, one lingering over his breastbone as the other dipped to rest below his navel. That large body pressed close enough for Diarmuid to feel the hard line of his inhumanly large cock against the small of his back.

**‘Starving.’** The voice reiterated as the mute’s lips pressed over the curve of his ear, biting down gently as his hips rocked teasingly into him. Diarmuid whimpered and tilted his head as teeth grazed the skin of his jaw, large fingers dipping beneath his robes to circle enticingly around his nipples until they were stiff peaks.

His other hand wandered lazily to the slit in the leg of his robes and caressed the smooth skin he found there, his callouses dragging deliciously over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh and drawing a wanton sigh from his lover.

Something about the sight of him, glowing in the afternoon sun and the reflection of his golden altar, had the mute’s mind growing hazier with lust by the second. The way he felt beneath him, the responsiveness, the way he opened himself up entirely and pushed back against him in the oldest dance known to the universe. He would give him every taste of pleasure, and in doing so he would taste his own.

“Your -ah!- your dinner, my Lord…” Diarmuid whimpered as those teeth bit down and sucked at his neck. The deity grinned teasingly and drew his arm away from his lover’s thigh to push the dishes quickly, but carefully, to the edge of the altar in one sweep.

Diarmuid barely had time to argue before the larger man stepped back the briefest second to lean his hand on the nape of the young man’s neck, guiding him down until he was leaning chest down against the altar. He hissed as his swollen nipple brushed the cool metal, but it quickly turned into a groan as he felt those scorching hands at the hem of his robe and lifting it over the swell of his arse.

The deity knelt on the ground and sank his teeth teasingly into the flesh of his cheek, revelling in the yelp and surprised laughter as the man wriggled beneath his grip.

He pulled back to suck at the skin apologetically, laving his tongue soothingly against the small indents he had left before his tongue wandered on. Diarmuid’s laughter broke off into a whimper, his hands clenching on air as it trailed slowly but surely down to his cleft, finally reaching its target with a loud moan from the god it was attached to.

The mute’s cock twitched between his thick thighs at the musky taste and feel of the man beneath him. His free hand reached up to push at one thigh, opening him up further and basking in the trembling beneath his fingers.

“M-my…oh! My _Lord_ , please…” Diarmuid whined as that thick tongue began to circle over his hole without dipping in.

The mute could feel it twitching and spasming as if trying to draw him in, and what kind of being was he to refuse?

The young man cried out and clutched at the etched runes of the altar as that long unnaturally long appendage finally slid over and into his opening, back and forth, unhurried in its exploration as he opened with every thrust. His hips jolted and he gasped in pleasure as the mute’s satisfied moan rumbled and vibrated through the sensitive flesh where they were joined.

A large finger joined where his tongue lapped and sucked, dipping deeper with each thrust until his knuckle rested on the rim. The deity pulled back, heavy-lidded as he admired the glistening skin and the way his body quivered and trembled in pleasure. He leaned in a final time for a final kiss to his cheek before he straightened up, withdrawing his finger. He placed a hand on the small of Diarmuid’s back, hushing him gently as he writhed in search of stimulation, before he reached over and dipped his fingers into the bowl of olive oil remaining on the tray.

The younger man’s hips wriggled impatiently as he whimpered in frustration, his muscles beginning to tense in embarrassment at how open and vulnerable he seemed to be, and the deity couldn’t allow that in the slightest.

His clean hand went to his own hard cock, heavy and leaking from the mere breath expelled by his lover, and slid between those gorgeous cheeks. The sight of his enormous cock sliding up and over his arse had his balls tightening in anticipation, his breath punched out of him in wonder.

He marvelled at how well he managed to slip into that slender frame, as if every time that they joined proved that their bodies were somehow made to fit together. He often wondered if some strange twist of divinity had made it so.

He spread one of the cheeks and moaned as he thrust into the cleft, his prick dragging back and forth over that enticing hole in a foreshadow of things to come.

“You _tease_ …” Diarmuid groaned, tilting his head to the side until he caught his lover’s gaze. His face was flushed, his curls damp and sticking to his forehead, his lips red and glistening and curved up mischievously. “You don’t seem that hungry to me…” he purred, one arm moving to push himself up from his prone position.

The mute growled and thrust forward once, sharp and powerful. The bowls and dishes clinked warningly as Diarmuid shuddered and overbalanced with a startled laugh. The mute’s broad and molten chest leaned over until he was held in place between the golden altar and the marble body at his back. The mute nuzzled into his curls and brushed playful and teasingly light kisses into his hair and around whatever exposed skin he could find, before he bit at the dip of his neck.

**‘Ravenous.’** The voice breathed into his mind mightier than a gale. An oiled finger pressed into his hole without much warning and Diarmuid mewled, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

The finger was soon joined by another, tilting and crooking for barely a moment before they found that delicious spot inside that had the younger man gasping and clawing without fail.

The mute indulged himself as he felt the muscles spasm around his digits, adding a third and finally a fourth only after his lover was pleading and pushing back into his hands desperately.

He breathed in the honeysuckle sweetness of his flesh, his tongue lapping at the sweat and sunlight and all of the gorgeous things that the world had to offer. He was amazed that this extraordinary wonder of the world was his. He could keep him, forever, always close and always loving, and the wonder of it all was that he, too, could be kept by this beautiful creature, always, _always_ , and _Gods_ …

“Please,” Diarmuid begged beneath him, fingers scrabbling and carelessly knocking bowls onto the floor with a clatter. “In me, please… I want you _now_ , _please_ …”

To deny such a pretty request would be a travesty. He pressed a kiss to those curls before leaning back just enough to watch his fingers retreat from their purpose, mouth watering as that pretty, stretched hole clenched invitingly on nothing. He reached over for more oil and slicked his cock from root to tip, wiping the excess gently around his lover’s rim.

He lined himself up with one hand, spreading those cheeks with the other as the tip nudged at his slicked entrance.

**‘Enough?’** the question came through the air, gentle and far removed from the thunder pounding through their bodies. Diarmuid nodded frantically, a hand reaching back to grab at the wrist closest to him and sighing as the mute instantly twined their fingers together. His gorgeous hips wriggled enticingly, and that was enough.

The moaned together as the head slipped forward, stretching his rim wider with every careful thrust until it popped in. It was only the head, but the mute knew his lover’s limits that came with their joining. He stopped with a hiss, leaning down until they were once again pressed together and sought out Diarmuid’s kiss-bitten lips despite the odd angle. He relished the enthusiasm he received in return, gasping and whining even as his body trembled around the girth within him.

They kissed sloppily, unhurried as they adjusted to their coupling until the mute could feel the tentative gyrations of Diarmuid’s hips against the table. He pulled back slowly, pushing forward with added pressure and sinking deeper with every thrust into that perfect body.

He devoured the moans, drinking them down until with a final push their hips finally met. Vibrations rumbled through the deity’s chest like an oncoming storm as they adjusted to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure and closeness.

He pulled out until only the wide head remained sheathed, waiting just enough time for that hot channel to relax before thrusting sharply all the way in. The motion drew delectable breathless gasps from his lover, and he repeated the motion effortlessly.

“ _Yes_ ,” the young man breathed, rolling his hips back into the thrusts, “Yes, more, _more_ ”

Unable to deny him, he started up a solid rhythm of slow pulls and sharp pushes, each time exerting a bit more power.

It continued for aeons, time muddling and fuzzy as the mute’s thrusts swung between slow and steady to fast and hard. When the mute reached under to cup his member, he had to bite down on that glistening shoulder at how hard and wet he was. Their hips slammed together as his lover’s moans and whimpers grew frenzied, and something inside him shook lose. He growled, leaning back and wrapping his hand around his lover’s waist to pull him back onto his cock with every pounding thrust. He revelled the cut-off groans that lodged in the younger man’s throat, in the sight of the rosy skin of his ass, red from abuse and jiggling with every slap of his hips.

But it was the sight of that flustered skin and the lean muscles flexing beneath that had his fingers tightening around his hips, until he was practically slamming into the body beneath.

“Hng… wait…” Diarmuid mumbled suddenly, breath fogging the shiny metal beneath his cheek, and the mute stilled mid-thrust with a grunt. They were both panting with exertion, sweat gleaming on their bodies and the smell of their acts lingering in the air of the clearing.

The mute’s hands quickly came to gently card over his shoulders, brushing over the curls on his face and tilting him gently until he could see his eyes. His pupils were blown and hazy when their gazes locked, and he didn’t seem to be in any pain, but the thought that he might, he might…

“I want…” Diarmuid licked his lips, his voice hoarse and broken in ways that had the mute’s cock twitching where it was still buried deep.

_**‘Anything.’**_ Came the immediate response, the deity’s clean hand sweeping through his lover’s curls and brushing the strands from his eyes.

“I want to see you…” he flushed, after all this time still embarrassed by his own wants. The mute’s heart ached as he smiled, nodding and leaning to kiss his temple.

Diarmuid gasped when he pulled out, but not for long as he flipped the younger over in a move that had him laughing breathlessly.

Their eyes locked once again, mirth and lust and everything swirling in their gaze when the mute lined up and sank in to the hilt in one smooth glide. Diarmuid’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and his legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him down until they were flush with one another.

With every thrust the mute could feel Diarmuid’s hard, leaking cock as it rubbed between them. It twitched every time he grazed that spot inside, Diarmuid’s eyes rolling and brows furrowing as he concentrated on every spark of pleasure.

“More,” he gasped between sloppy, desperate kisses, and the mute lovingly obliged.

His strong and scarred arms reached up to clutch at the edge of the altar as he slammed in with added fervour. Each choked off moan and yell spurred him onwards until they were both lost to their messy pleasure.

Something about it. Seeing Diarmuid prostrate beneath him, prostrate on his altar. Under his body. Surrounded and engulfed by him in all ways. Something ancient and animalistic churned in his chest, until he realised that he could feel his claws emerging and ripping into the altar. He broke from their kiss to bury his face in Diarmuid’s neck, desperately seeking an anchor but only being spurred on by their combined scents and musk.

He could feel the base of his cock thickening in ways it hasn’t in millennia, and his eyes squeezed shut to try and centre himself.

His lack of concentration caused his hips to stutter in their rhythm, leaving Diarmuid to whine desperately and frustratedly as he pawed at the elder’s wide shoulders.

“Don’t stop…!” he panted out, grinding back onto his cock that had the mute shuddering and groaning at the friction, but he shook his head.

**‘Too much.’** The voice strained out remorsefully into his mind, causing Diarmuid’s movements to still. **‘Could hurt you.’**

“I want it.” He breathed, guiding the mute away from where he was latched to his neck until they were nose to nose.

The young man’s cheeks were flushed, eyelashes glistening and curls stuck to his forehead; but the devotion and unfettered trust that that within that gaze had the mute’s heart dancing to all the diving songs of the earth, and _Gods_ he loved him.

“All of you, everything you are, I want it. I want to see you.” He whispered between them, firm and laced with nothing but the truth. The deity could only star in absolute adoration and wonder, and even after the Sun had petered out of the cosmos, he would never deny him anything.

_**‘My treasure’**_ the voice crumbled as the mute pressed their lips together. **‘my only one.’**

“ _Yours_ ,” Diarmuid hushed out immediately, his hips beginning to roll once more between them. “Always, _always_ yours.”

Their rhythm built, rising once more as they moved in tandem so effortlessly that they could almost lose track of where they ended and began.

It didn’t take long for the mute’s heavy thrusts to crescendo, building speed and force until he was pounding into the willing body that clung to him. The throb at the base of his cock grew stronger until he could feel it begin to push and enter the rim with every sharp thrust.

“Ah! Ye-s” Diarmuid cried out as the mute leaned back to continue stroking his aching and neglected prick. “ _More,_ please, pl-ease.”

The mute’s hand joined the rhythm of his hips losing himself at Diarmuid writhed and tensed with his dawning orgasm. He felt his own swelling below his navel, his balls tight and heavy as he tried to hold off as long as he could.

When Diarmuid came, it was like a bolt of lighting struck him from the heavens. He cried out, eyes wide and body tensing as his back arched so high he was almost lifted off the altar. His knees clenched around the mute’s waist, hands grappling and spasming as his cock spurted over the deity’s large hand and his stomach.

The sight of it was too much, even for a cosmic being. The sensual sight of his heart’s red lips, parted in a wide ecstatic smile, the satisfied scrunch of his brow as he chased the feeling, it was too much. He let go of his lover’s softening shaft to curl his hands tightly around that waist and pull him onto his cock in rapid and rough plunges until the swelling at the base of his cock finally slid inside.

Diarmuid’s body clenched and his eyes flew wide at the sensation as the bulb expanded, locking the mute in place as he rolled into his open body. His lover choked as the bulb rubbed against his prostate with every grind, his overstimulated cock leaking despite his mind-numbing orgasm.

The mute roared and threw his hands onto the edge of the altar above Diarmuid’s head, the solid metal cracking and splintering in his grip as he finally came. His cock twitched and pulsated as his seed filled him up, the thick bulb holding it in place as the powerful deity trembled and whined through the might of his orgasm.

His mind returned to his body a long moment later as he felt Diarmuid’s hands brushing over his cheeks, through his hair, pressing gentle kisses to the sensitive base of his horns. His limbs started to loosen and his knuckles cracked and popped as he pried his fingers from the gouges in the gold, to instead lean himself on one elbow so as not to crush the slender body beneath.

They were a mess. Skin flushed and sweaty and fluids slipping everywhere, lips bitten raw and red and love bits covering both of their bodies. The plates and dishes were scattered over the altar and the floor, food and liquids staining the tiles and the grass around them.

The mute could not remember a time where he had known such bliss.

He pressed gentle kisses to Diarmuid’s forehead, across his cheeks, over his eyelids, basking in the satisfied sighs and barely suppressed hoarse chuckles.

They both groaned when Diarmuid moved his hips, the bulb at the base of the mute’s cock pulling at his rim in ways that he couldn’t handle quite yet.

“I want to stay here,” Diarmuid mumbled, his eyes grown heavy as they drank in the mute’s satisfied and bashful expression. “But I don’t think it’ll be too comfortable.”

**‘Bed.’** The disembodied voice whispered as he the mute leaned down to kiss him, running his hands through his hair and over his neck. **‘Sleep.’**

Diarmuid grinned as the mute’s hands slid under his back, groaning as he hoisted him up. The position had him slipping and shifting deeper onto his cock and he buried his face into the elder’s neck, his arms and legs wrapping around him for dear life as he walked them out of the garden and into their home.


End file.
